Voyeurism
by Doreiku
Summary: After being "kidnapped" by Braska and Auron, Jecht witnesses something he shouldn't see. Should never see. But he can't help enjoying it. BraskaxAuron, SoloM, Yaoi, Oneshot.


Where the hell was he? How did he end up here? Why did no one notice him- he was _the _Jecht- star blitz ball player of all time. Yet here, in this place that smelled better than a Zanarkand jail but held less companions for idle chit chat, _no one_ knew him. Didn't this place have televisions or spheres or _something_?

This whole culture was screwed up. Everyone walked around, head high, wearing robes. By the looks of things, this was definitely _not_ a sauna. The thinking hurt his mind, and recalling that before he had gotten _here_- wherever the hell it was- a couple bottles of whiskey rolled on the dock, suitably empty. And now he somehow had a bottle of sake gripped sadistically in his hand. At least this place had good alcohol.

A bell rang precariously down the long hall, and Jecht had half the mind to know what was happening. Lunch time.

The promise of food forced him to slump against the wall; on his ass after falling down in a drunken mess- he would never admit that, though. He could nearly smell food, mouth watering at the very thought. That was one thing he liked about this place. Compared to Zanarkand jails, this was a vacation.

Jecht was disappointed when instead of seeing a gourmet dish meant for him, two strange men stood outside his cell, sizing him up like some sort of carnival animal, deciding on the next buy. Jecht stared at the two customers. One wore a pale robe- like a dress, he chided to himself, with a big, foolish hat. The other one stared at him with the same reflection of disgust- this one in a red cloak, though looked no older than 20.

Angry from the looks he received, especially from the boy in red, Jecht snapped, "Who are you?"

The man in the dress asked clearly, properly, "You are the one they call Jecht, the man from Zanarkand, are you not?"

This was the first conversation with anyone of this land and he couldn't understand why they were so damn polite. "What of it?"

"Watch your tongue, knave." an angry order from the underage bouncer. And he truly did look like that, glaring at Jecht, preparing to fight for the cross dressing man's life. His thoughts were rudely cut off when said transvestite spoke,"Ah. My apologies. I am Braska, a summoner. I've come to take you from this place."

… …

Jecht took one look at the broad expanse of green, leafy forest-nothing like Zanarkand- and winced. Where the _hell _was he?

Who the fuck cared? He had sobered up, mainly due to Auron's- he learned the boy's name- glower of pure resentment. And now that he had some say in his thoughts, Jecht chose to ignore any semblance of consideration.

"Lord Braska," Auron called gently and Jecht couldn't understand the emotions restrained from that simple title. The title alone was confusing. _Lord_ Braska? Jecht grumbled underneath his breath. He was required to call the "summoner" that also. "We should retire for the night."

… …

After recalling tales of his world- and after repeatedly ignoring Auron's genuine hatred- they lay in silence, sleep appealing even with all the confusion surrounding him. Several hours passed and he still lay wide awake. Obviously, confusion _was _an obstacle.

Refusing to think about this whole predicament, Jecht rolled over in his make shift bed- though even with the blanket shielding his body from the ground, he still felt the unmistakable sharp indentations. He groaned aloud, a persistent rock dug into his ass no matter where he moved.

"Ah…"

Even more confusion daunted Jecht. What was that noise? He paused and waited. Jecht thought earlier it was some animal wandering the brush, yet when he groaned, the sound stopped abruptly.

Finally, after what seemed like ten whole minutes, the sound continued with renewed volume. And suddenly, he knew what the sound was. After all, how could he mistake the ruffle of clothes falling, heavy gasps escaping greedy throats and naked lewdness. Jecht paused. Braska invited women? Why didn't he get one?

Listening to the sound, Jecht could feel himself getting hard. It'd been so long since his last fuck, just hearing it turned him on. But Braska wouldn't screw someone like this, for he found that Braska was easy to read- the brutal crash of hands groping skin- so instead, it had to be Auron. Jecht imagined the boy getting laid. Tough chance.

And then he heard more than he should have. "_Auron…_"

And then he realized, _together_ they _could_.

Immediately, Jecht willed away the erection tightening his pants. But it _had_ been a very long time…

He shook his head violently, not enough to rouse the couple again, though. This was disgusting, his body should _not _be responding. In fact, he should scream at them to stop fucking around. Jecht wished he had been more curious about this _Spira_, for he could have used the social norms against them. But maybe this land allowed it. Everything was fucked up.

Wanting the situation to be a delusion of his mind, Jecht sneaked a peek at their beds set up beside another. Auron's make-shift bed was missing its owner. Knowing he wouldn't like what he saw, his eyes strolled up to Braska's and his eye twitched at the unmistakable mass of desire.

Auron lay between the summoner's legs, kissing him. They were both stark naked, and though it disgusted Jecht, he couldn't deny his cock twitched at the sight. Through the fire, Jecht saw their dicks brushing together, the swell of need obvious, breathy groans coating the air with lust.

"Jecht may be awake." It was Braska's voice, definitely, but something was off. A whining… Begging tone?

"My lord, I will not forgive you if you continue speaking of that drunkard." Auron's husky whisper responded, holding as much resentment for Jecht as earlier.

Their short conversation ended with a louder than appropriate moan rising from Braska's throat. Auron effectively doused the sound, gluing his lips with Braska's. The bodies arched together. Unconsciously, Jecht reached into his now close-fitting jeans to touch his throbbing cock.

One time. Jecht was allowed that much after being dropped head first into an alien world. Just once. This did _not _make him gay.

He squeezed the tip of his cock, blasé when pre-cum leaked out. It really _had _been a long time…

Jecht watched Auron slide his hand down to Braska's ass, out of his vision, and heard the summoner give a strangled moan. Jecht could only guess what he was doing. He was not experienced with men, but still knew the preparations in doing them.

Braska raised his hips, clashing their cocks together with accompanying gasps from both of them. Jecht stroked his dick apathetic to morals now. Juice dribbled down his hand and smeared pre-cum on his shaft. He wanted to close his eyes, revel in the pleasure, but the scene playing before him was too great to miss.

The distinct push forward and equally mind numbing whimper signaled penetration. Braska wrapped his legs around Auron's form, allowing his body to be rammed into, each thrust forcing him an inch or so from the bedding.

A moan sounded, coming from neither himself nor Braska, but Auron ignored it to thrust harder. His hands gripped Braska's ass, lifting him higher and groaned when muscles clenched around him. Two minutes later and Auron knew their love making could be heard. Even a deaf person could make out the distinct sound of his cock crashing against Braska's open, wanton hole. And he couldn't care less if they were heard. They were too close to care about anything.

Braska gave a short cry and came on his sweltering chest. Breathless, he kissed Auron, knowing what exactly got him off. His tongue danced around Auron's lips, trailing down his cheek, and stopping to tease his neck.

Jecht's cock felt like it would burst. Braska's moan into completion was so… _so _amazing. And the way Auron's cock continued to plunge into him, seeking his own release with a feral demeanor. Jecht worked his head before stroking the entire length and his dick gave an involuntary jerk. He shuddered, coming into his hand violently.

Auron heard the warning, deep breaths, belonging to neither of them. Pushing it to the boundaries of his mind, he groaned from Braska's mouth on his neck, Braska's ass sucking him in, Braska pushing back against him…

"_Braska!_" Auron nearly roared, shooting his sperm deep in Braska's insides. For a second, Jecht wished he had lasted long enough to hear _that_. The wild slapping followed by the sudden, abrupt stop and slick, wetness of pulling out of Braska. He gave another chortled noise, fondling his soft cock. Sated, Jecht turned on his side, no longer interested in what his captors did.

But he couldn't block out the sound of getting readjusted, clothed.

"Lord Braska…" A loud suction sound, one that Jecht knew was a kiss, "I love you."

And Jecht could almost hear the playful smile on Braska's face when he said, "I love you, too."

… …

The next morning was awkward. Jecht stared at the two men with unreserved unease. They ate breakfast in silence, which was an anomaly to Braska, since he continued to make comments about Auron's food, answered with a grunt from said boy.

Finally, they had packed and were prepared to set off for the day. Auron threw a bag at Jecht without warning. Though the star blitz ball player caught it with ease. Auron smirked at him and chuckled under his breath.

Jecht couldn't understand why he was so amused. He caught the damn bag. What the hell was so funny?

"What?" Jecht snapped.

"I see you had an enjoyable time."

And Jecht realized Auron wasn't looking at _him_ but at his pants. More specifically, the large stain at his crotch.

At that moment, Braska walked to Auron, wondering if he was getting along with Jecht. Though as he followed Auron's eyes, he realized why Jecht had been eying him all morning.

Jecht stammered for an excuse but couldn't make one, at last without a snappy comeback.

Braska blushed.


End file.
